


The Walking Dead - Season 7 Based Imagines

by PurpleNachos



Category: The Walking Dead, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-08-31 15:00:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8582854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleNachos/pseuds/PurpleNachos
Summary: Imagines and one shots based on each episode of The Walking Dead's seventh season.





	1. S7E01: The Day Will Come When You Wont Be

**Author's Note:**

> In this particular episode you are the younger sister of Abraham and are currently knees down in the line-up, after Abe and Glenn have just been on the unfortunate receiving end of Lucille’s wrath.

My brother, my blood. _Gone._

And there he stood, the physical embodiment of the devil himself, smirking before us as he paced up and down the line up, swinging his bloodied bat with undeniable glee. In just a few motions he had single handedly ripped apart loving families and friendships, leaving them nothing but a crumbling mess in the dirt alongside the beaten bodies of Glenn, and my sweet sibling Abraham.

That was it for me. The last living person guiding me through this pathetic excuse of a life we all led, wiped out in an instant. I felt as if Negan had taken that bat to my own heart and crushed it into a thousand pieces. And now, I was consumed by a painful emptiness inside, a haunting numbness.  

“ _You look shitty_ ,” Negan mocked with a smirk upon his face, as his heavy footsteps trudging through the dirt came to a stop just before me, and he looked inquisitively into my reddened eyes. “Fucking broken, as a matter of a fact. Which is a fucking shame because you… are kinda hot.”

“What’s her name?” he questioned, searching his men around us for an answer.

“Y/N,” one man’s hoarse voice called out from behind me.

“Y/N. What’s the matter darling, _you didn’t enjoy the show_?”

My lips parted as if to speak, yet no words escaped my mouth. But that of course, would not be good enough for Negan _, his royal highness_ , King of killers and all things wicked in this world. He flashed a crooked smile, almost revelling in my defeat, before lowering one knee to the ground until his dark, wicked eyes fell level with my own.

“The best fucking advice I can give you right now, is to speak, when you are fucking spoken to,” he muttered menacingly. As the breath from his sharp words hit my skin, I pursed my lips tightly shut together, gritted my teeth and stared bitterly forward, which seemed to do nothing but amuse Negan who then let out a hearty chuckle.

In an instant, his grip tightened around Lucille’s base and he whipped her up from where she lay positioned in the dirt, moving fast and furiously through the air as he made a beeline for my head. Maybe I thought he would end my life, there and then, just like the others. Maybe, I just didn’t care anymore. Perhaps that’s why I didn’t flinch, nor did my stance falter. Instead, the bat stopped just inches away from my skin, threateningly close, before Negan lightly pressed the bloodied barbed weapon into my cheek, staining my skin crimson as Negan looked on with sickening pleasure, followed by bewilderment.

“You… are not fucking scared of me. Why is that I wonder?”

“You just killed the single last bit of family I had left on this Earth. You can’t hurt me any more than you already have,” I said, cold and defiant.

His delighted expression soon dwindled away and no longer did he display with pride his sickening wolfy grin, but in its place was a look of solemn humourlessness. He released Lucille from pressing her sharp wires into my skin and rose to his feet, towering tall above my figure as I continued to gaze forward into the dirt.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. Dwight, get her into the van.”


	2. S7E02: The Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagines and one shots based on each episode of The Walking Dead's seventh season.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this particular episode you have awoken in the Kingdom, similarly to Carol, however are a little more transparent with your scepticism.

“So, Y/N, what do you think of the Kingdom? What do you think of the King?”

This place was a joke, a fantasy, a fable – so far from reality that I doubted the people behind these tall fences even knew of the wicked horrors that lay just beyond their sights. How precious their lives must be, to be shielded of such monstrosities. Picking fruit from their blossoming orchards and thriving gardens, organising book clubs and attending choir groups – _really?_ Meanwhile there were people out there, trying to make it through one day at a time, starving and defeated as they fought a losing battle against the actual dead, who had risen with a vengeance and desire for human flesh.

And their leader? Their _King?_ An overly extravagant, delusional character that took on the role of royalty as if somehow his presence amongst others was more favourable or valuable? Not to mention the questionable choice of pet he had opted for, currently snarling in my direction as it lay by his side, vigilant and protective of its master. Well… he was something else. I could barely believe it.

“Speechless? You have nothing to say? Perhaps you think me mad.” he questioned, disbelievingly.

“No, I have nothing to say, your Majesty” I said as I laughed sceptically to myself and turned my back on the man with long, greying dreadlocks and feathers in his hair, as I proceeded to leave the auditorium and hopefully, this place for good.

But as soon as my back had turned and I neared a door that led to the fresh outdoors, the sound of heavy footsteps approached from behind as King Ezekiel quickly leapt down from his podium, his carved staff still in hand, and ran toward me until his frame blocked my path. He stood before me, tall and majestic, with his eyes twinkling as he looked down into my own.

“Where are you going, Y/N? Have I said something to offend? We have barely gotten acquainted.”

“Back to the real world. Out there,” I admitted with a sigh. “This place isn’t for me.”

“We have built a life for ourselves here. A safe haven and blissful community, where all those with good in their hearts are welcome to enjoy the fruits of our labour, so long as they contribute. So tell me, Y/N, what is it exactly that makes you so sure this is not the real world?.” he asked inquisitively, as his arms outstretched and he gestured to the thriving community around him. And yet, I couldn’t help but smile kindly and chuckle with amusement as I spoke.

“I just stared a tiger in the face – a god damn tiger! While it looked down on me like I was about to be its next juicy dinner, so yeah. I mean, I’ve seen some crazy shit out there, shit that you wouldn’t believe. But _you_ , have a god damn pet tiger. This place is crazy. _You…_ are crazy.”


	3. S7E03: The Cell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagines and one shots based on each episode of The Walking Dead's seventh season.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this particular episode, you reluctantly reside within the Sanctuary, after having been offered the choice of joining them upon your capture. Hearing of Daryl’s capture sparks an interest in you.

_We’re on easy street, and it feels so sweet…_

They were right, that song they play on repeat down here really _is_ insufferable. I’d heard Joey, the larger figured guy that had been practically glued to Negan’s side the past few days, laughing with his comrades over breakfast this morning. He bragged and boasted to the men seated around him of the most recent prisoner they were holding captive, someone from the huge confrontation that took place only a few days ago. A little less time gloating and he might’ve noticed my fingers slyly sneaking into his large jacket pockets, removing the small bundle of keys from his possession.

“…beaten down, the guys a fucking mess. Should see the state of him man, feeding him shit and just beating the crap out of him. Torturing him until he breaks… if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll kneel,” his words echoed in my head, as I scanned the halls for any sign of a Saviour while my footsteps traced a route toward the source of the music.

_Cause the world is ‘bout a treat when you’re on eaaasy street…_

I don’t know what it was that led me down those dimly lit hallways, but once I’d started, there was no turning back. Perhaps it was upon hearing of the prisoner’s unwavering defiance and fearlessness towards our merciless leader, Negan. Or perhaps it just unsettled me to think of a defenceless body being unnecessarily tortured, only a few levels below the very floor I slept upon. But either way, they were right - it _would_ be in his best interests to kneel. Lord knows I felt that struggle myself as I once came to terms with such a debilitating surrender.

I turned another corner oh so cautiously… clear. If someone caught me down here, if _Negan_ caught me down here, who knows what unruly punishment would become of me. And yet I was not deterred from my path. If anything, the adrenaline fuelled me forward.

_And we’re breaking out the good champagne, sitting pretty on the gravy train…_

Not _yet_ deterred, anyway. Finally, I reached a locked door toward the end of another vacant hallway, where the shrill tune of the song seemed to ring out louder. My hands couldn’t help but tremble, as I took one last look over each shoulder before returning my attention to the key hole upon the door, unlocking it with one of the keys I had obtained earlier that was now held firmly between my fingers…

There before me, huddled in the furthest corner of the room, lay a beaten down man with long dark hair that swept over his face. His waving locks partially hid his mysteriously piercing blue eyes, a thin film of dirt laced his skin, and the familiar tattered ragged clothing distinguishing the lowest grunts of the Saviour hierarchy adorned his muscle-bound frame. _Not_ who he was expecting, evidently, as he scampered further from my presence as his eyes flitted upwards, taking in the sight of the unexpected figure before him.

“Daryl?” I mumbled, closing the door behind me in an attempt to mask the up tempo beat thumping through the halls. No response, he just looked on.

“What’ve they been feeding you?” I questioned as I scanned his face, recognising the pain and numbness he was currently enduring. After a short pause, he spoke, his voice low and husky.

“Somethin’ tells me ‘a shouldn’t be talking to ya.”

“It’s okay, there’s no one around. They’re out on a collection,” I said softly, with the hopes that I might ease his suspicious nature, but Daryl’s eyes had returned to the dark space before him, remaining there as I spoke. His gaze only broke as I unzipped the jacket that clung tight to my body, and pulled from within it a gift that I held outstretched before him.

“I uh, brought you some food. It’s just a sandwich, but there’s egg and lettuce and…”

Nothing. Not even a flinch. Was he that broken? They said he was a fighter… had they made him this way?

“Please,” I implored him with such sincerity in my tone. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

A moment passed, and Daryl seemed to let down his defences, even if only slightly, as his arms reached out and he retrieved the morsel of food from my hands. He inspected the contents of the sandwich, rummaging through it with his fingertips and true to my word, it was as described. No trickery or deceit, no ulterior motive, just a desperately kind gesture for a suffering man. In an instant, Daryl lifted up the food to his dry, broken lips and devoured it with ravenous hunger, barely leaving a single crumb to fall upon the concrete floor beneath him.

“I’m sorry they’re doing this to you. Just… try and stay strong. I’ll try bring you food when I can.”

I offered him one last warming smile, trying best to conceal my sorrow and pity, and turned my back on him as I peered out into the long hallways once more, ready to leave until our next encounter. Just as my fingers were resting upon the door’s edge and I fumbled for the tarnished cell key, his voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Hey… thanks, for the food.”

“Yeah, of course,” I nodded, before securing the door behind me and quickly pacing back through the compound to a much safer location.

I’ll see you soon, Daryl.


	4. S7E04: Service

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this particular episode, you have an uncomfortable encounter with Dwight, who takes a special interest in you when the Saviours arrive.

_What’s that saying_? You could cut the tension with a knife. Or in this case, with Lucille, the bloodied and brutal weapon of choice belonging to none other than the king of Saviours, Negan himself. Even speaking his name was enough to ignite the loathsome rage from deep within that I held for such an abhorrent man. There he stood before us, with a wicked grin plastered across his face, displaying the upmost arrogance as he and his barbaric band of men made their way inwards through the gates of Alexandria, infiltrating our idyllic, unburdened community.

Perhaps even more painful than their unwelcome presence here, with the sole intent to strip us of our accomplishments and livelihood, was that of Daryl’s presence amongst them. My brother, my friend, my family – taken from our very arms as we watched on helplessly. There he was, dressed in a dirty brown sweat suit that displayed the letter ‘A’ in bold red letters, with nothing to even cover his feet as they scraped the concrete beneath him. He was a broken shell of a man, beaten down and bloodied by his captors.

I watched on at his earnest, defeated expression, as he dispersed with the others who made their way into our small village ready to loot our goods, barely lifting his head to take in my sorrowful expression; but all the while, I had been unaware that the eyes of another had been fixated on me.

“ **It’s Y/N, right?** ” Dwight, the scar-faced man I had come to detest, questioned as he occupied the space before me. His face was heavily mutilated, but it was no deterrent for the twinkle in his piercing blue eyes and the smirk that spread across his face in that moment. “ ** _Yeah_. Why don’t you show me which one these fine houses belongs to you? Then we can begin the wonderful process of… taking all your shit.** ”

My clenched my jaw and pursed my lips tightly together upon hearing his voice, as I stared into the eyes of the blonde haired killer before me, barely able to conceal the utter contempt and resentment I held for him. I could see it all again as haunting images of our last encounter flashed through my head; that day by the train line, the bolt piercing through Denise’s eye, and his smug face appearing in the distance as she hit the floor, bloody and gasping for breath. The same smug face he wore so proudly, before my very eyes.

“ **Ain’t got all day sweetheart,** ” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

I rolled my eyes upward and with great reluctance, turned on my heels as I lead the way to the house deepest into our compound, with his heavy footsteps trailing closely behind me. I soon reached the stark white porch and stood before the building I had come to call home, gripping its brass door handle and sighing greatly as I twisted it open and entered. Dwight followed shortly after, taking a few steps indoors before his feet came to a halt and allowing himself a moment to gaze admiringly upon the tall ceilings, beautifully decorated walls and impressive décor, whistling as his eyes scanned the room.

“ **Man** ,” he said, returning his attention to me. “ **You must’ve been _real_ happy playing house in a place as sweet at this.** ”

He waited silently for a minute, but there was no response to follow. All I could do was stand before him, gritting my teeth and avoiding his unwavering eye contact until eventually, he moved on to the exhilarating task of raiding my precious home. First, he sauntered his way over to the kitchen, where he carelessly began raking through multiple cupboards and drawers, spilling their contents onto the floor as he raked and rummaged. He spent a little time selecting items he deemed desirable, which soon took a place of their own in the hefty bag he carried by this side. Then, he moved on to the living room; scattering sofa cushions and pillows across the room as he rummaged beneath them, recklessly emptying shelves of their neatly placed books that came thudding the floor, and smashing all delicate ornaments within plain sight, for no other reason that his pure amusement.

After a few minutes of pillaging and raiding, turning my once loved living space into a site of destruction and carnage, Dwight circled back to where I stood and abruptly snapped his fingers before me, demanding my attention before he let a conceited laugh escape from his lips.

“ **What…** ” he said with a sickening smirk. “ **No tour of the bedroom?** ”

“ **Eat shit,** ” I spat back with venom, only serving to amuse him further as he threw his head back and laughed once more.

“ **Oh, she’s got a mouth on her! I like that,** ” he mocked. “ **Alright then. How about your gun? I know you got one, so where is it? You seemed pretty happy aiming one at my damn head back in those woods, sure you even took a shot or two at me. But those days are over now I’m afraid. _This_? Us coming in here and taking your shit, us calling the shots? This is your life now. So, I’ll be having that gun now.** ”   

“ **You’ve already got it. All my guns are in the infirmary,** ” I answered, somewhat unconvincingly. His eyes narrowed and he took a few small steps forward, letting out an exasperated sigh as he ran one hand over his coarse, dark blonde beard.

“ **Cut the shit. We both know you’re gonna go off and do whatever you have to do to bring me back whatever goodies you’ve got stashed away in this place. Otherwise, well, you know what happens. You’ll go out like your little friend did, with an arrow through her damn eye. Or maybe it’ll be a bat to your skull? Your choice.** ”

He was right. He’d killed one of us before, and he’d certainly do it again. And if Dwight’s threats hadn’t already spurred my body into movement, the prospect of Negan himself hearing of my utter noncompliance, swinging his bat gleefully as he readied himself to cave in my skull, would certainly be enough. I soon made my way into a back room of the house, mumbling profanities under my breath as I found myself out of earshot from Dwight. In the furthest corner of the room, I dropped to my knees before a hidden spot only I knew of, and with my fingernails digging under a slab of wood, I prised one of the floorboards up to reveal a hidden compartment. I stretched out my arms and reached into the crevice, pulling from within it the cool metal of the semi-automatic pistol Dwight had been ransacking my home for. I stared upon it longingly, desperate in that moment to stride back into that room and fire a few shots from it, draining the life from the Saviour, but that would have to come another day. For now, I replaced the floorboard beneath me and returned to Dwight eagerly awaiting my return in the other room, who smirked as he caught sight of the weapon I was gripping tightly.

“ **Well well well,** ” he taunted, as I thrust the gun into his hands all the while displaying the bitterest of expressions upon my face. “ **What d’ya know, _your gun_. Much appreciated, Y/N.** ”  But before I could bite back and spit the words I so desperately wanted to, we were interrupted by the startling sound of men charging through the household, their thunderous footsteps stomping their way through each and every room.

“ **So here’s what’s gonna happen. Our guys are gonna raid this place clean, take all your furniture and all your fancy shit. And your bed of course, ‘cause we wouldn’t want to leave you with such a luxury now would we.** ” Dwight stepped closer, lessening the distance between us until our bodies were almost touching. I could feel his warm breath against my skin and see every detail of his crooked smile flashing in my face. “ **But between you and me? My bed is real comfy, and I got a tonne of nice shit in my place… not like you, _not_ _anymore_. I’m sure I could persuade Negan to let you come with me. I’ll take _good_ care of you. What d’ya say?**”

By this point there was no hiding the sickened expression that lingered on my face. I had been staring upon Dwight’s repulsive smirk, taking note of the growing hunger in his eyes that watched over my body intently. It only took a second for me to compose myself, before I leaned in closer to him, our bodies now firmly pressed against once another’s and my soft lips placed just by his ear as I spoke with such clarity and affirmation.

“ **Go fuck yourself.”**


	5. S7E05: Go Getters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this particular episode you are Simon’s wife, and have just left Hilltop with him after the Saviours delivered their message to Gregory.

We’d had a fight that morning, and we weren’t ones for fighting – at least not with one another. Simon always said there were plenty of corpses to vent our frustrations on, and that we never needed to inflict that on one another. He never really came across as that type anyway. To me he seemed more … protective, gentle, and caring. Perhaps a side of him that only I had been so privileged to bear witness to. Nevertheless, we had fought. That morning when Simon was called out in the earliest of hours by our tyrannical leader, I found myself yet again angry and frustrated that the man I had come to love had been called away from our bed once more, the very second Negan had snapped his filthy fingers.

_“Tell him no?! Tell him you want to lay in bed with your god damn woman just once-”_

_“You know I can’t, babe. I’ve got to go… he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”_

_“Oh and I fucking do?!”_

This wouldn’t change any time soon though; I knew it and he knew it. That was just one of the wonderful perks that came with the title - Negan’s right hand man. He lived like a king amongst men who worked day in and day out for measly points, acquired a range of luxuries amongst raids, and was entrusted with the highest profile jobs, much like the one we were on now, but the work kept him busy and all too distant for my liking.

 **“You alright over there?”** Simon asked, his gruff voice breaking the silence. We were now well into the journey back to the Sanctuary after having left the Hilltop community, and I had squashed myself into the furthest corner of the truck so that the distance between us both was at its greatest. Usually these journeys would be filled with taunting, teasing and copious amounts of shameless flirting between the two of us; but I was still too agitated from our encounter that morning, and we hadn’t spoken to one another since. Until now there had been no other noise filling the air, other than the loud rumbling of tyres upon the dirt road, the occasional idle walker amongst the trees and the roaring of engines behind us.

 **“Fine,”** I answered sharply, not allowing my gaze to falter from the window.

**“You know I can tell when you’re lying, right?”**

Of course he could tell, but I continued to evade his glances and pursed my lips tightly shut in an attempt to hold back any bitter words that threatened to escape my mouth. I really had hoped to hold my tongue, and not bite as he coaxed answers from me that would surely bring on another argument. But after all, I had never been one for modesty and keeping quiet.

**“You were an asshole back there.”**

**“Excuse me?”** He questioned, with amused disbelief in his tone.

 **“I’m gonna need you to kneel for me** ,” I imitated in between gritting my teeth as I referred to the moment Simon had so arrogantly stood before the settlement’s leader, Gregory, and forced him to his knees. **“Fucking hell, you sounded just like him.”**

 **“Good! I was supposed to,”** he exclaimed, lightly chuckling as he heard the words relayed back to him. I scoffed aloud as the very idea of it disgusted me – Negan and Simon actually being alike. Despite my distaste for him, Negan was a capable leader, inspiring at times and particularly motivational when the threat of a hot iron was imminent. But as we all were aware, he could be cruel and sadistic, two traits I never wanted to see in the man sat adjacent. **“What, you didn’t like that? Seems to work well for Negan…”**

**“Yeah well, I don’t give a shit what works for Negan. He’s even more of an asshole. You wanna be more like him? Run this place, cave people’s heads in for sport, and have a fuck load of wives to come back to every night?”**

**“No,”** he said as he let out an exasperated sigh, as he ran one hand over his thick dark beard and greying stubble, before placing it gently upon my thigh. A smirk began to consume his face, and a twinkle shone through his eyes as they left the barren road before us for a moment and locked onto mine. **“Just the one crazy wife is enough for me.”**


	6. S7E06: Swear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this particular episode you are a member of the Oceanside community, and take on the role of Cindy who earlier, opted to save Tara’s life.

**“Who are you?!”** Netanya’s stern voice called out, as she commanded an answer from the dark haired woman now trembling before her. Her dark, doe-like eyes upon her unfamiliar face scanned the women circling around her, all brandishing an assortment of weapons that were now pointed solely in her direction, spreading alarm through her body that caused her voice to quake.

 **“Hi, uh, I just… I didn’t mean to,”** she said nervously as she raised her arms in a panic, until she backed her way up against the back of one of our beach huts and came to a halt. **“Look, I’m cool. I’m not here to hurt anyone… I’m sorry…  I just walked in. Crawled, actually, I didn’t even know I was in-“**

 **“I said, who are you? What is your name?!”** Netanya bellowed.

**“T-Tara. My name is Tara. Sorry, I-”**

**“And how did you find us? How did you come across this place?”**

Tara’s desperate eyes searched frantically throughout the group of women before her, as if crying out for a saviour to lead her right from wrong in this moment – desperate for something, or someone that might spare her life. And that someone was me. I’d found her struggling body washed up upon the shorefront, barely breathing and unarmed; she was sure to die soon, be it at the hands of one of my people or from one of the corpses. So what did I do? I brought her to safety. I sheltered her from the elements best I could, and left a few essentials by her side for the moment she woke; enough for her to carry on her journey with a fighting chance. Little did I know I would be leading a stranger into the heart of our camp, something I would surely pay for later.  

 **“Her,”** she called out frantically, with an arm raised as she shakily pointed in my direction. Now _I_ had become the unwilling centre of attention, as all eyes had sharply turned to focus upon where I stood, and a multitude of whisperings and raised eyebrows surely followed. “ **She saved me on the beach and I just… I just followed her. I’m sorry! I can just go-“**

 **“Why? Why did you follow her back here?”** Netanya pressed her further for answers.

“ **I don’t know, I just thought there might be a camp nearby, y’know? I wanted to see for myself before I walked into…”** she paused, swallowing a lump in her throat before continuing, **“well… this. Plus, she seemed nice, and she’s cute and I was just gonna say thanks… y’know, for saving my life, and not killing me. Yet.”**


	7. S7E07: Sing Me A Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this particular episode you are a member of the Saviours, and have been the subject of Negan’s interests for some time now ;)

Here I was, _again,_ knocking hard upon an all too familiar surface before me. How many times would this man find a reason for me to be stood just on the outside of these majestic mahogany doors, the ones that hid behind them a whole showcase of Negan’s luxuries and guilty pleasures. Inside I would find an assortment of spectacular paintings, plush furniture and a truly stunning interior, not to mention the numerous painted women perched upon chaise lounges in nothing more than dainty lingerie, the kind that _he_ preffered them in. They had it easy, I always thought, fucking their way through the end of the world, doing just enough to secure themselves protection and the whole host of luxuries that Negan showered them with. Whereas the rest of us? We held our heads high as we fought day in and day out, coating our bodies in blood, sweat and decaying flesh as we conquered the new world, risking it all. _We were living._ And yet a part of me did wonder…

“ **Yeah, come in,”** Negan’s husky voice called out from within as he granted me entrance.

“ **You wanted to see me? Sir…”**

His dark eyes were drawn away from a young, long haired boy with a bandaged face who was sat just opposite him, as they found their way to where I stood in the doorway and scanned the length of my body, allowing his trademark devilish smirk to consume his face no doubt while the impurest of thoughts began to unravel. Without hesitation, he rose from his seat towering over all those around him and made his way to a small liquor tray where he began to pour a generous amount of whatever dark, poignant liquid was closest.

 **“Yes I did. I heard from one of my guys that you have had a hard, fucking, day,”** he said as he sauntered his way over to where I stood and offered me the drink from his hand. **“Simon said you almost got your fucking face bit off out there. One of those dead fuckers almost had you, that right? You almost fucking die today, sweetheart?”**

 **“I’m fine,”** I reassured both him and myself, as I swirled the alcoholic mix back and forth in its glass and raised it to my lips, downing it instantly before I slammed it down upon the nearest surface. **“I’m here. I’m alive, aren’t I?”**

Negan simply stood before me for a moment as he chuckled to himself, with his lips parting to reveal the most charming and irresistible of pearly smiles. But as quickly as it has appeared, that same charm was squashed and in its place, arrogance. Frustrating and distasteful arrogance.

 **“Yes you very much are alive. That’s why I asked you here.** **Look at what happened to you today, Y/N. Now take a look around you. My place, is fucking awesome. I know it, you know it, hell, all of these fucking women know it. They spend most of their fucking days up in here just lounging around, feeding and pampering themselves – pretty much just waiting on my dick to come in here and remind them who’s boss. And between you and me, thy _really_ like to be reminded of that. You don’t see them out there on the front line firing bullets and slashing through fucking dead flesh and guts just to get some decent fucking shit around here. I provide for these women; I take care of them. As long as I am alive, and they abide by my rules, they will want for nothing. So I wanna ask you again… why don’t you join them? Stop risking your life every damn day for bullshit points and let good ol’ Negan take care of you. All of this could be yours, all you have to do is say yes.”**

Like I said – _arrogance._ Here he was, standing before me with that same gleam in his eye and obnoxious smirk upon his face, with his body close enough to mine to feel his breath upon my skin. God he was good, and his offer – temping. But the thought of being like these women, unable to fend for themselves, weak and dependant? That lifestyle would never appeal to me; no matter how alluring Negan became to me.

But before I could respond to possibly Negan’s third or fourth charming proposal, my attention was diverted elsewhere to the boy’s shifting figure in the distance. **“Who’s the kid? Haven’t seen him around here before.”**

 **“That my dear, is Carl. The raddest, baddest little motherfucker you will ever meet in your god damn fucking life. Well, y’know, except me.”** Negan winked playfully in my direction and made his way over to the boy, who stood uncomfortable and trembling underneath Negan’s heavy leather-clad arm that now draped over his shoulders. He turned to Carl and mumbled, while gesturing with his hands to where I stood.

 **“What d’you think, little serial killer? She’s nice, right? She’d make me a mighty fine wife,”** he said, all the while licking his lips in a wolfy manner and stealing mischievous glances in my direction. Even his dark, brooding eyes told a tale of the wicked thoughts going on in his head right now. **“Excuse us kid, the two of us are gonna go have a little chat in private.”**

At this point I found myself holding the breath in my lungs, as I cautiously followed Negan’s lead through the room. I’d been this far before, stood in this very room where his women lounged and he entertained his guests on a regular basis, but now I found myself trailing behind the man toward a further set of doors, unfamiliar ones that could only have revealed Negan’s private bedroom. As he held the door open and the both of us entered, I feasted my eyes upon a room like no other in our compound. No other Saviour’s bedroom featured such an extensive array of wall to wall canvas art, incredible diamond trimmed leather furniture and multiple thick quilted soft furnishings. And that’s not to mention the pièce de résistance, a stunning mahogany carved four poster bed, beautifully detailed and topped with soft satin sheets I couldn’t resist trailing my fingertips over.

 **“You didn’t answer my question out there. You gonna do me the fucking honour, sweetheart?”** Negan tempted, as he took a few strides toward me until my back was pressed firmly upon one of the four posts of his bed and the distance between us became unbearably close. His soft fingertips drew a fallen strand of hair back from my face and trailed their way down my cheek before resting under my chin, eager and ready to pull my aching lips onto his. “ **Fuck, we can consummate this marriage right here right now if you’re that keen. So doll, what d’you say?”**

 **“I say…”** I mumbled, pausing for a moment as I allowed my eyes to flit over his chiselled face, taking in the appealing sights of his thick, salt and pepper stubble, his all too inviting lips and his enticing lustful brown eyes. He was just as drawn in as I was in that moment, the two of us only mere moments from colliding our lips against one another’s and ripping the garments from our bodies. But of the two of us, I would be the one to see sense. **“I say you must be fucking joking.”**

Negan clearly caught off guard, scratched his head and took a few steps back as he proceeded to look upon me with absolute bewilderment. **“Do I look like I’m fucking joking here? Man, there is a _lot_ of shit I like about you, Y/N. A lot of shit that makes me want you as one of my damn wives. You’re funny, you’re fucking smart, meaning I can actually hold a fucking conversation with you unlike most of the idiots in this place. You don’t take shit from any of my guys… hell, you don’t even take shit from me half the time! And you’re fucking good out there when we’re out on runs. Seeing you beat the holy shit out of those fucking corpses out there? _Hot._ You covered in fucking flesh and blood splattered all over your tits? _Super, fucking hot._ So no, believe it or not I am not fucking joking. I want you, to become one of my wives. What d’you say?” **

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Negan had advanced upon me in an instant, placing one hand firmly on my waist and the other wrapped tightly around the nape of my neck, tugging on my hair as he pulled me close to him. His soft lips grazed against my own as he placed a tender and passionate kiss upon my lips, growing with heat and intensity until his mouth came crashing down upon me again and again, while our tongues tingled and wrestled for dominance.

After a few minutes, my lips reluctantly prized themselves away from his and allowed me to catch my breath for a moment, but I soon felt Negan’s hands on my body gripping tightly begging for more. **“Is that a yes?”** he growled lowly in my ear.

 **“No,”** I whispered teasingly, with a smirk not to dissimilar to Negan’s proudly portrayed upon my face. It was at this point I felt no need to linger, and so I made my way toward the nearby door, feeling a smug sense of accomplishment having just turned down the almighty Negan. But before I could wrap my now tingling fingers around the brass handle of the door and make my escape, I felt the soft grip of a hand placed around my upper arm, gently pulling me backwards.

**“Might I be so bold as to ask why the fuck not?”**

**“Because Negan,”** I began, as I gently pressed my body against his, placed my lips by his ear and hummed seductively. **“I don’t want to wait in line to suck your dick.”**


	8. S7E08: Hearts Still Beating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this particular episode you're an Alexandrian, stood amongst the group as you all watch Negan and Spencer playing a tense game of pool, only for it to end with a knife dug deep into Spencer's gut.

**“Someone… get up here and _clean, this, mess, up_.** ”

Negan stood before us all, swinging Lucille playfully by his side as he continued to look down upon Spencer’s feeble, groaning position by his boots. Desperately clutching on to the vital organs that spilled from his abdomen and coated his body with blood, his mouth began to splutter with the thick sticky liquid, until his body could finally fight no more and began to shut down from the horror that had been dealt it.

 **“Oh,”** Negan exclaimed, with a Cheshire Cat like grin spread across his face, looking out amongst the fearful faces and trembling bodies that had been watching from a distance. He raised the bat that he gripped tightly in his gloved hand and held it high as he pointed it out into the crowd that lay before him. **“Anyone wanna finish the game? C’mon, anybody?”**

 **“Anybody?!”** he persisted, scanning the unfamiliar faces for a worthy opponent. **“C’mon… I was winning.”**

He was met with a deafening silence, as most of us stared down to the ground or desperately avoided his glance in some way, unable to comprehend the gravity of the death we had all only moments ago bore witness to. The fear glazed over our faces, mouths agape and trembling with fright… but it was not enough to deter him from his heinous little games.

“ **You.** ”

I stood frozen for what felt like a lifetime, eyes barely able to pull themselves away from the limp, lifeless body crumpled upon the floor with masses of crimson now pooling around it. But when I finally found the courage to raise my head and set sights upon such a despicable man now laughing smugly to himself, I was met with the blunt tip of a barbed wire wrapped bat, and a wicked man grinning profusely at the end of it. My breath hitched in my throat and my fingers slid through sweaty palms as I looked down its long shaft, and I thought for just one moment what it might be like to let him take the hit. To be taken once and for all from this cruel, cruel world.

A firm gloved hand from behind was keen to interrupt my dark thoughts as its grip tightened upon my shoulder, and shoved me forward towards the leader of the Saviours who looked onwards with his wickedly wolfy grin. Holding one hand out, he reached for my own and tugged on it eagerly, as he led me forward toward the pool table, taking special care to guide me over the bloody heap of flesh by his feet. His preying eyes scanned the length of my body before he leaned in a little too closely, placing his lips just alongside my ear as he thrust the pool cue into my quivering hands.

 **“It’s your turn, darling,”** he growled.  

Fearful of his unpredictable nature, I complied and took a few cautious steps forward until the hard mahogany of the table pressed into my waist, scanning the obstacles on the green surface before lining up to take my shot. In a past life, I’d been very good at playing pool. I spent my evenings mixing with the wrong crowds in our local pool club, flirting alongside my girls for the sake of a few free drinks and hustling the unsuspecting newcomers that dared to test their skills against mine. My father always hated it, and often warned me not to linger around the shady figures that loomed in places like those. And funnily enough, here I was again, staring down the length of one of these familiar tables, with the wrong crowd for company. It came as no surprise that my fingers refused to steady, while Negan sipped the dark, poignant liquid he had welcomed himself to and looked down at me with nothing other than gleeful amusement.

**“Je-sus! You ever played this game before, sweetheart? Let Negan show you show it’s done.”**

Without hesitation, Negan enthusiastically slammed the glass down and made his way over to where I stood, lowered himself down and proceeded to firmly press his body against mine from behind. I couldn’t help but squirm under the pressure of each tense muscle of his placed against my body, one seemingly more prominent that the others. With one gloved hand, he reached forward and gently gripped my wrist as he held it still against the table’s fleecy surface. Then came his other hand, the one that formerly plunged a knife through Spencer’s gut, snaking its way around my waist and gliding its way down the length of my other arm, until his soft fingers were delicately placed upon my own and guiding the way. With one quick motion, he gripped the arm that held the cue and pulled it back to a height, before pushing it forward with force until the cue’s tip slammed into the white and subsequently knocked not one, but two of the striped pool balls into the table’s pockets.

 **“Well would you look at that!”** he exclaimed, as he pressed himself even closer – so close that his newly clean-shaven face grazed the tender flesh of my neck, and his breath warmed my skin as he spoke. **“You, are a fucking natural! That wasn’t so hard now, was it? Well… apart from one thing.”**


End file.
